The rain was hard. The mud was thick and glutinous. It was adobe. Notwithstanding the stout rain shelter built over the ruin by Larry Carrillo and “The Friends of the Carrillo Adobe,” the house of Maria Carrillo was little by little washing away.
That main house is the last house standing of what was once the Carrillo Rancho, granted by Gen. Vallejo, military governor of Mexican California in 1837. Mark that year. Count forward to 1849 (The Gold Rush) and 1850 (statehood). Mexican California had another 13 years left in its existence.
Maria Carrillo was Gen. Vallejo’s mother-in-law. History was intimate then. The names that became our place names (like Carrillo and Vallejo, Finch and Dutton) knew each other well, and their relationships and their mistakes largely determined our present. For Larry Carrillo, this history is family history.
The Maria Carrillo Rancho once covered most of Santa Rosa as one vast property. Its ranch buildings once covered most of the 14 acre property now fenced off at 2323 Montgomery Dr. Their stone foundations extend far out into the planned high density housing development proposed by Swenson Builders (of San Jose).
That housing development would also cover the ruins of a Southern Pomo settlement (that of course predates the Mexican rancho). The site is thought to have been a seasonal settlement used by the Indigenous in part to mine obsidian for cutting tools in the Santa Rosa creek—not a hundred yards from the future adobe.
There may be Southern Pomo graves there. It’s uncertain. The preliminary archeological survey of the development site is incomplete. In another complicated intersection of local Indigenous and Mexican history, the adobe is not half a mile from the creek site where an Indigenous woman was baptized Rosa after Catholic Saint Rosa de Lima—giving name to her, the creek and the town of which the ranch was just the beginning.
Thus, the fenced and neglected property, consisting of ruined adobe, flattened Pomo village and messy Catholic orchard, is where Santa Rosa had its messy genesis. Surely then, it will be preserved as a hallowed place?
In a right world, yes. While the main house and about 20 feet surrounding it is a registered historic landmark, it sits on private land. That property was sold away by the Catholic Diocese of Santa Rosa to Swenson Builders around 2000 to pay diocese debts and settle early claims of child sexual abuse.
Swenson originally proposed a 265-unit apartment in 2004. This plan was scuttled, presumably by the housing/banking crash of 2008. A new proposal, submitted late last year, now proposes 162 units, which surround the ruined adobe on three sides (one may review the plans and process at srcity.org/4279/Creekside-Village-Townhomes).
A neighborhood meeting, organized by The City, was held Dec. 15. The venue had to be changed to accommodate all the angry comment by neighbors, historians, Pomos and latter-day Carrillos. As a strict vote, this project would not go forward. But it is private land, and The City is under great pressure to meet a state-mandated housing quota.
This is all a strange echo of the past. Indigenous California trampled and Mexican California pushed to the ruined margins in a sudden rush of new settlers. Have we learned from the past? Will history repeat itself? And will Santa Rosa, a large town with little pride, take itself seriously enough to preserve its birthplace?
Learn more: This is history in progress. Larry Carrillo of ‘Save the Carrillo Adobe’ can be reached at lj********@*sn.com. Project updates can be received from the city website.
